


A Princely Hypocrite

by MildredMost



Category: Henry IV - Shakespeare, Henry IV Part 1 - Shakespeare, Henry IV Part 2 - Shakespeare
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Drunk Sex, Drunken Kissing, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-18 23:04:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5946694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MildredMost/pseuds/MildredMost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the usual sort of night at the Boar's Head in East Cheap, until Harry Percy arrives and stirs things up. </p><p> </p><p>  <i>"We don’t even know each other at all, really.”</i><br/>“But I do know you,” said Hal. “Better than I know my brothers. Like - I know exactly how many pairs of jeans you have. Including the peach cut-offs…”<br/>“Shut up, they were for a TOWIE party,” said Ned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Princely Hypocrite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bold_seer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bold_seer/gifts).



John pushed the heavy wooden door of the Boar’s Head open and breathed deeply of the stale beer and damp wood smell of the rotten old place. Dolly behind the bar nodded at him. “Your usual, John?”

“That would be divine my dear,” he said. He heaved himself onto a seat at the bar.

“You alright up there grandad? Isn’t that a bit dangerous for you? You might have a little fall.”

A slight boy with a mischievous, pointy face and shiny dark hair sauntered over to him, slapping him on the shoulder.

Ned Poins. So sure of himself, so full of cheek, so careless of anything but having a good time. Exactly as John had been at his age, in fact. Although Ned, John grudgingly admitted, was a bit better looking than he had been.

Well, the seventies had been a difficult fashion time for everyone.

“Don’t concern yourself about me, sweetheart,” John said. “Hal going to be in tonight?” He smiled inwardly as the mocking grin faded a little.

Ned shrugged. “Dunno, he hasn’t said anything to me,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

There had been a Hal for John, too back in the day. A beautiful, unattainable boy who had drifted in and out of his life as he pleased, who John had wasted most of his early 20s obsessing over. “The Forlorn Hope,” John used to call him, and the boy would laugh, though John was more than half serious.

Worked for the foreign office now, or something similarly stratospheric. Not like John with his family money reduced to a decaying house in Teddington, his fingers in a dozen unprofitable pies, and a tiny little gambling problem. No, it would never have worked.

Of course, his Hal hadn’t ever touched him. Different for Ned. Hal touched the poor boy all the time. John had thought it funny at first - Ned was such a self-assured little shit, it was nice to see him suffer a bit - but over time something about the sad hopefulness of Ned’s pointy, irritating little face had tweaked at John’s heart. What was it people said these days? He identified with him. God how sickening. Getting old, getting sentimental. It happened to everyone.

And here Hal came through the door now.

He never did anything in particular to draw attention to himself, but he always did anyway. Tall and angular, with sleepy, hooded eyes and the standard issue posh-boy flop of blonde hair, he should have looked completely out of place in a grubby old man’s pub on the fringes of Cheapside. But of course he had gone to the type of public school which instilled in its pupils the astounding, unshakeable self-confidence that they will run the country one day, and so never feel out of place anywhere. Why would they? Everything was theirs.

Ned’s face lit up then composed itself again into studied indifference.

“Hello mate,” Hal said to Ned, slinging a casual arm around Ned’s shoulders and walking him over to the bar. John could see Ned biting his lip against the delighted smile that wanted to spread over his face. Hal was always like this with the poor little sod. Arms around shoulders, careless hands on thighs. Once he’d fastened a button on Ned’s shirt for him that he’d missed and oh, Ned’s face had been a picture.

Never came to anything.

“Oh, here’s my Prince Charming,” said Dolly.

“Hello gorgeous,” said Hal.

“Hello yourself, sweetie,” John said and Hal grinned at him. He really had the most charming smile, and he knew it. Hal swung himself up onto a barstool next to him, his chino-clad thigh brushing against John’s. _If I was 10 years younger_ , thought John. _What I wouldn’t do to that boy. Actually make that 40 years younger, if we’re wishing for things_. _._.

“Drink?” he said to John who inclined his head in assent. “Ned?”

“I can’t buy you one back,” said Ned. “I’m skint.”

John kept quiet. He hadn’t been planning on buying Hal a drink back either; he’d had a bit of bad luck on the gee-gees earlier that day.

Funny that Hal gave them the time of day, really, the collection of n’er do wells that made up the Boar’s Head regulars. Hal came from the kind of family background that belonged on the pages of ‘Hello’ magazine. He should be tumbling out of limos and into Boujis, or at the very least suited and booted at Cheltenham or Ascot.

Perhaps he did do those things when he wasn’t here, John supposed. It wasn’t as though Hal ever told them anything about his life. He never spoke about much of anything at all.

“I can give you some money,” Hal said to Ned. And he meant it that easily too. It was one of the nice things about Hal, he never cared about who was paying for what as long as he was having a good time.

“Well. Cheers.”

Hal’s phone went off and he frowned as he read the text.

“Oh, _Christ_.”

“What is it?” asked Ned.

“My bloody father. He wants me to have a drink with his friend’s son. Who is, incidentally, a complete and utter wanker. He thinks he’ll be a good influence on me.”

“You going, then?” Ned kept his voice emotionless.

“No. I…” Hal grinned suddenly. “I’ll get him to come here. He’ll hate it. No offence…” he inclined his head to Dolly who raised her eyebrows at him.

“Who is this poor boy you plan to torment?” asked John. Probably some other delicious, floppy haired bit of eye candy.

“Harry Percy. He does...internet business things. I don’t know. He’s a wanker,” Hal repeated, texting furiously.

“Harry Percy, _the_ Harry Percy?” said Dolly. “The one who’s made that new social networking thing that’s going to replace Facebook? _Hotspur?_ ”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“Goodness. He’s gorgeous,” said Dolly.

“Gay, I’m afraid,” Hal said, not looking up from his phone.

“Well then Ned,” John said. “A handsome gay millionaire, what say you to that?”

“Nice one, Hal,” said Ned.

Hal did look up then; first at John, who kept his face impassive however much he wanted to chuckle, and then at Ned who shrugged and smiled cheekily at him.

John had been there when Ned had ‘come out’ to Hal - as much as anyone really did that any more - one drunken night some months ago. Hal had said “No shit, Sherlock,” or some other smart-arsey type remark, and then smiled one of his face-splitting smiles at him, bought him a cocktail called a “flaming cocksmack” and made him down it.

“Don’t thank me yet, my dear sweet Ned,” said Hal. “You haven’t met the utter prick that is Harry Percy yet.”

“You better get me another drink then,” said Ned. But John could see him taking the ‘dear’ and the ‘sweet’ and laying them away in his memory to be turned over and over till they were worn out.

 

***

 

“Oh yah,” Harry Percy was telling an assortment of regulars who had gathered around him. “I got the idea when I was on a yoga retreat in Majorca? And I crowdfunded it literally like within a week? It was totally amazing.”

Hal was standing by Ned and muttering in his ear, “Did he _fuck_ , his mum paid for it. What a prick. What a priiiiiick,” until Ned got a fit of the giggles.

Harry Percy was as delectable as John had thought he’d be, however, and for the second time that night, John sighed for his lost youth.

Harry heard Ned laughing and glanced over. And then gave Ned the most thorough once-over John thought he’d ever seen. He was surprised Ned didn’t catch fire.

He watched as Harry elbowed his way over.

“Hello,” he said to Ned, executing a skilled manoeuvre which cut Hal off behind him and forced Ned to look at him and only him.

“Are you Hal’s…?”

“Friend.”

Hal rolled his eyes and made a face, and stalked off somewhere.

“And you’re not a...sorry to ask, but in a place like this…”

“Fuck off,” said Ned and tried to turn away.

“I do apologise. It’s just, you’re terribly attractive, but you’re not with Hal, so I couldn’t work out…”

“Why would I be with Hal?”

“He’s a terrific slag, usually,” Harry said. “And you’re just his type.”

“What?” said Ned and John at the same time, John forgetting to pretend he wasn’t listening.

“His type. Male, good looking…”

The shocked silence lengthened to silly proportions and Harry began to look confused.

Ned looked at the ground for a moment, took a breath, then looked back up at Harry.

“So what’s _your_ type?” he asked, and smiled at him, though John didn’t think the smile quite reached his eyes.

 

***

 

Three quarters of an hour later when Hal reappeared, Harry had Ned practically backed against the wall, casually touching his arm as he spoke to him intently. Hal swooped down on the pair of them, his face flushed and his eyes glittering, not caring what he was interrupting.

“Where have you been, Hal?” said Ned.

“Out the back with the kitchen porter and his mates, taking poppers,” said Hal, wrapping a long arm around Ned’s neck and grinning.

“Jesus.”

“You really missed out sweetheart. Here though - Francis gave me the last of the bottle,” he pressed it into Ned’s hand. Ned looked at him and Hal stroked a hand down Ned’s cheek.

 _Interesting,_ thought John.

Harry Percy looked as though he would explode.

“Is this one of your pathetic jokes, Hal? Are you in on it?” he said to Ned.

“Harry,” said Hal, clapping him on the shoulder. “Fucking unclench will you.”

“So what, you were just letting me try it on with your boyfriend so you could both have a laugh at me? You are like, literally the worst Hal.”

“Oh my gosh, am I literally like totally the worst?” said Hal and Ned started to laugh.

“Well, fuck you then. And fuck you too,” he said to Ned. “I thought you were actually…”

“I was! He’s not my fucking boyfriend!”

“Sweetie, why are you being like this?” said Hal.

Harry Percy exploded then, and he and Hal got into some weird argument about “your bloody father,” and “Northumberland” and “Westmoreland” and “that time in Scotland.”

Ned flung himself into a corner of the pub, his expression blacker than the floor of the men’s loos. _Bloody Ned_ , John thought. Two handsome young men fighting over him, and he was sat there pouting instead of doing anything about it. John felt like giving him a boot right up the arse. Instead he went over and sat beside him, and gave a companionable nudge.

“What do you want,” said Ned, tipping the last of his beer into his mouth.

“How does it feel to have Hal Lancaster defending your honour?”

“He’s not though is he? They’re arguing about some posh boy shit. Probably someone’s father stole someone else’s butler or something.”

“If you say so.”

“I just prefer it when me and Hal take this piss out of people _together_.”

“For the love of all that is holy, Ned Poins,” John said in exasperation, “You are one of the biggest cowards I’ve met. Kiss one of them or the other and stop wasting your youth and looks on sulking.”

“Don’t call me a coward you fat prick,” said Ned, standing up, his eyes flashing fire. John laughed and waved him away. Such drama.

 

***

 

Half an hour later John was in the disabled toilet with the lights off, standing on the loo seat smoking a ciggie out of the window - Dolly would kill him if she knew but he loathed standing in the street - when the back door thudded back and Ned stalked outside. He lit up one of those sad little roll-ups he insisted on smoking.

He sucked it down in about four draws, and John could swear he could see the glitter of tears on his face. Poor little swine. It had been a strange old night. Harry Percy had chucked a drink over Hal in the end, who had roared with laughter, shaking his wet hair like a dog. Then Harry had ‘offered Hal out’ as Dolly put it and that’s when a couple of the other regulars - big, red-faced Bardolph and his mate Pete - had stepped in and calmed everything down.

In the end Harry had flounced off to the opening of a pop-up vegan street food market in Dalston, run by his friends Gideon and Poppy.

The door banged again - Hal this time. Ned ignored him. Hal stood patiently, not fidgeting or pacing. Nothing.

“Ned,” said Hal eventually.

“Shut up,” said Ned and turned his head away.

“I just wanted him to leave you alone,” said Hal.

“Well, he did.”

“And I wanted him to fuck off.”

“He did that, too.”

“I know.”

“If you wanted to wind him up, you only needed to say - I’d have played along. But that was really shit.”

Hal said nothing.

Ned turned to him. “Why do you even…? Why do you always turn up out of nowhere and we have a really good night and then you just disappear again? You must have a thousand friends to do that with. Other people like you I mean.”

“I don’t though. You’re the only one who I really have a good time with.”

 _Oh Hal_ , John thought. Here we have it at last.

“You’re the only person I can really talk to,” he carried on.

"What the fuck - you never talk to me, about anything.” Ned flicked the butt of his roll-up into the gutter.

“Well, I think things and you let me sit there and think them and don’t annoy me with questions.”

“It’s better when you don’t speak to be honest.”

Hal grinned, sensing that Ned was thawing.

“But why did you have to do that, it just…” Ned took a breath. “If we are friends then...you know, I’m going to pull sometimes.”

“Anyone but him,” said Hal, shaking his head.

 _Nobody but me, you mean_ , John thought.

“He might be exactly my type,” said Ned. “You don’t even know.”

“If you like wankers, I suppose.”

“Apparently I do,” Ned shot back and John added a silent _touché._

“Does that mean…”

“Yes, Hal,” said Ned wearily. “I fancy you. I know it must be a bore, looking the way you do and being so rich and charming and all that - everyone you meet must fall for you. But there it is. I haven’t ever bothered you about it either.”

“ _Bothered_ me? I didn’t even know if you liked me half the time.”

“There we go then. We don’t even know each other at all, really.”

“But I do know you,” said Hal. “Better than I know my brothers. Like - I know exactly how many pairs of jeans you have. Including the peach cut-offs…”

“Shut up, they were for a TOWIE party,” said Ned. Hal ignored him.

“...and I know what brand of underwear you buy, and I can remember both your middle names...I know how many jager bombs you can have before you want to do karaoke…”

“Five.”

“Four. After five you’ll only sing Dolly Parton.”

Ned nodded assent, starting to smile, but not quite.

“And I know that if I come here and have a drink with you, it’ll be a laugh. It’ll be brilliant in fact. And…”

Hal came over and leant against the wall beside where Ned stood, so he didn’t have to look at him.  

“And my father’s ill and we don’t get on so I’m not sad about it. I’m only sad for myself because I’ll have to leave London and go and run the estate.  And I know I can tell you that and it’ll be ok, because you won’t judge me.  So.”

“So.”

 _Come on Ned,_ thought John _. You can do this. On behalf of everyone who is in unrequited love, you can do this._

“So I’m sorry I never mentioned the gay thing.”

“Or that you are a terrific slag.”

“Or that. I’m not, actually.”

“Pity.”

“I just didn’t want to...with you. At least I thought not until I saw you with that prick. I kept telling myself if things had gone wrong then I couldn’t come drinking with you anymore.”

“Yes, it’s always terrible when sex gets in the way of drinking,” said Ned.

Hal pushed himself back off the wall with his elbows and stood opposite Ned. For once in his life he did not look entirely sure of himself.

Ned merely watched him and bit his lip slowly. _That’ll do it,_ John thought.

Hal reached out and took the hem of Ned’s t-shirt and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. Ned took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling, his hands clenching by his sides. Then Hal twisted his whole hand into the fabric and tugged Ned gently towards him. They stood for a moment, an inch from each other’s faces, breathing hard.

Ned gave a kind of sigh and pulled Hal against him, falling back against the damp brick wall as Hal’s mouth met his. Their breath came in gasps as they kissed, both Hal’s hands in Ned’s hair now, Ned’s hand on the back of Hal’s neck. Hal grabbed Ned’s thigh and hitched him up against the wall, pushing his hips against him, sending Ned moaning into his mouth.

 _Oh, I am old, I am old_ , John thought. _I couldn’t do that anymore if I tried._

He heard the sound of flies being unzipped and a muffled “ _fuck_ ,” and “ _oh_ ,” and wondered if he should avert his eyes. But goodness, weren’t they both beautiful in the flicker of the street light; it seemed against reason not to drink them in. And all he could really see were pale arms and throats and Ned’s open, panting mouth, and Hal’s hand bracing against the wall as he cried out and shuddered, and Ned hanging onto him for dear life as he followed a moment later. And then softer kisses and a laugh and a sigh and Ned said something John didn’t catch and chuckled into the hollow of Hal’s throat.

There was a rattle on the door then and Dolly shouting “John you fat fool - if you are smoking in there I’ll lose my licence,” and John lost his footing on the loo seat and had to make an undignified leap to the floor, making a god almighty crash.

“If that was John was spying on us just now,” he heard Ned shout, “Tell him I’ll cut his fucking ears off.”

John gathered what shreds of dignity he had left and took his seat back at the bar. “Some wine, Francis,” he said.

At his elbow he noticed Hal’s phone buzzing away on the bar. Twelve missed calls and another incoming from Hal’s father, or as Hal had it in his phone ‘FUCKING DAD’. Casually he extended a finger and rejected the call. He thought for a moment, then switched the phone off altogether.

He’d give the boys tonight uninterrupted at least. Why he cared at all he didn't know -perhaps they had drugged him. Poins, Hal - a plague upon you both, he thought. A plague upon your youth. 


End file.
